Keep On Driving
by Agent Manchester
Summary: Ever feel like a prisoner in the car? Then you'll understand where Scully is coming from


DISCLAIMER: I do not own the x-files nor any other characters mentioned there in. All rights of the said TV show belong to FOX, Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement intended.  
  
Keep On Driving  
  
Long drives are the worst item on the criteria list for a partnership. Well in this partnership it is. I have worked with Fox Mulder for almost nine years and believe me; we've traveled further than most of you ever will by car. Sometimes our car journeys can last for hours, quite often the best part of a day. Sure, the first hour or so is spent talking about our current case and who could or couldn't be involved. But after that our conversations can go in absolutely any direction and that is what scares me.  
  
More often than not, things that I may say seem to come speeding back at me; my answers to his many questions always seem to change. Take for example, our very first car ride together, back on our very first case. We were traveling to Bellefleur in Oregon at the time and one of Mulder's questions went something along the lines of:  
  
"I arranged to have the body exhumed. You aren't squeamish about that sort of thing, are you Scully?"  
  
To which I replied, "I don't know, I've never had the pleasure".  
  
Much to my regret, feeling squeamish is something I have become accustomed to. Some of the things I have cut up, it's the kind of stuff nightmares are made of. Things that, had I stuck to medical training, I would never have thought existed. I guess that's what's fun about working with Mulder, seeing things that you never thought you'd see. Not to mention traveling to god knows where.  
  
Another thing about working with Mulder is that you never know where you'll end up. From memory I can't ever remember staying at home for more than a week. Which is how I have accumulated so many memories from the many cars that we've hired. I've driven down most of the state and main highways; I have a feeling there aren't many left to go on.  
  
We've talked about everything from being stoned to living something of a normal life. But despite all the times we've talked in the car, we never seem to have a real serious conversation. It's always general chat, nothing life changing and from that general chat, I've discovered more about my partner than most people have. I mean, everyone sees him as a twisted, spooky man who looks for UFO's because his sister was taken by one when in actual fact, he is the most down to earth person I know. He's an honest man and he cares an awful lot, his heart is that of gold.  
  
At times his driving can be erratic and crazy, but it gets us where we need to go. Several times we've ended up off the road. Once we went down the side of a mountain, hitting shrubs and small trees but we walked away with a few scratches, nothing more.  
  
There are of course, those sentimental times in the car. Just small things that mean a lot to me. I remember when we were working the 'Tooms' case. One night we did a surveillance of Eugene's house, yet again we were in a car. What began as playful banter ended up as a serious moment, possibly I felt fear at the time. A man I hardly knew had made a passing at me, our conversation still echoes in my mind.  
  
"Fox", I said.  
  
He laughed at me, then informed me that he even made his parents call him Mulder.  
  
"Mulder I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you", I blurted.  
  
Across his face came a look of wonder, then it quickly turned to slyness. He gestured to a bag at my feet, "if there's an iced tea in that bag, it could be love".  
  
I felt my heart skip a beat, and I picked up the bag. Pulling out a bottle I smiled. "Must be fate Mulder, root beer". I watched as he flung his head back with disappointment.  
  
Then another time, again we were doing surveillance, I had fallen asleep on his shoulder. If I had known at the time that I was resting on his shoulder.well put it this way, I felt very embarrassed afterwards. I know these are only small things, but for me, it's all about sentimentality.  
  
Even when I went on vacation one time, Mulder still found a way to ruin it for me, well he attempted to. I was driving along and I had stopped for gas when I heard my cell phone ringing. Much to my luck, I had to reach into the car, grab my keys, unlock the trunk and retrieve my phone from a small suitcase.  
  
"Scully", I said.  
  
"Hey Scully it's me".  
  
"Mulder I thought we had an agreement. We were both going to take the weekend off".  
  
"Right, right. I know. But I just received some information about a case. Classic X-File. Classic. I wanna share it with you".  
  
"Mulder I'm on vacation", I replied rather annoyed. "The weather is clear. I'm looking forward to hitting the road and breathing in this fine New England air".  
  
"You didn't rent a convertible, did ya?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Are you aware of the statistics of decapitation?"  
  
"Mulder I'm hanging up. I'm turning off my cell phone. I'll be back in the office on Monday".  
  
That's exactly what I did. I hung up. Much to my disappointment, I again couldn't have a weekend off.  
  
Things became out of control. So much for the holiday. Mind you, that is another of my problems, saying no to Mulder. Somehow I always end up falling for his charm or even his down right bluntness. But that alone is another story all together.  
  
There have of course been times when being in a car made me feel trapped. Things happened that I didn't like, and it was those times that I could have hated Mulder. One that hurt me the most was when we were in the town of Comity, and I know Mulder didn't mean it, he was influenced by a planetary alignment, we both were. But it still hurt; I guess it always will.  
  
I had walked into Mulder's room at our motel only to find him in the arms of Detective Angela White. Yes I was jealous, I had darn good reason to be. Any way, after a few not nice things were said, I went to slide into the driver's seat of our rented car.  
  
"Will you let me drive please?" he asked.  
  
I remember clinging to the steering wheel harder as if to put more meaning behind my words. "Why do you always have to drive?" I demanded. "Because you're the guy? Because you're the macho man?"  
  
"No", he said angrily, "I was just never sure your little feet could reach the pedals".  
  
I know I am short, I don't deny that I am, but its comments like those that really get to me. I know if Mulder had been in his usual frame of mind, he wouldn't have even dreamed about saying what he did. I guess it's one of those things that just seem to slip out.  
  
The other time I wish I could've leaped out of the car was about three years ago. Again my jealousy got the better of me.  
  
Mulder was driving at the time, I was next to him in the passenger seat and behind us sat Agent Diana Fowley, one woman who really gets me going. I can't recall hating many people but I know she is one of them. I sensed something between my partner and this woman, something I couldn't quite place. I had asked her how long she had been with the bureau.  
  
"Since '91", she replied, "I took an assignment in Europe after the wall came down. When the director stepped up foreign terrorism concerns".  
  
"And they brought you on this because of a terrorist angle?" I asked.  
  
"No. I requested a reassignment. There were things at home I decided I wanted to get back to".  
  
I saw Mulder look into the rearview mirror and I got the feeling that she was doing the same. Something must have happened between them. I kept my suspicions to myself. I turned to Mulder and said "Nineteen ninety-one, that's about when you started working on the X-files".  
  
"More or less, yeah", he replied.  
  
Later on I found out that Diana had once been Mulder's chickadee, as Frohike had called her and she had been there when he had discovered the X- files. I guess that explained a lot. Thankfully, Diana's presence didn't last long and Mulder's interest with her dulled. A wedge was put between us, I could see right through her and he wouldn't hear a bad word against her, but in the end we sorted things out, all was well at the end of it all.  
  
Sometimes the urge to comment on small things is unbearable. Most of the time it's easier to say nothing as a look is worth a thousand words. An example of that is when we were driving through the desert of Texas, looking for 'phantom tanker trucks' in the middle of nowhere. We had come to a t-intersection, I said we should go right, he said left. After a few seconds, Mulder accelerated straight ahead down a dirt track. I stared at him for an answer.  
  
"Five years together Scully, how many times have I been wrong?"  
  
That was where I didn't answer, just gave him a 'don't even ask' look.  
  
"At least not about driving", he added.  
  
As the years went by, our car conversations became more personal in a sense, they would often end up about life and what we were missing. At one point I became frustrated, I got to the stage where I was sick of being in the car, we never seemed to stop. I think we were driving through Area 51 at the time, talking about one of Mulder's informants and the quality of the information he was giving us. Again we had stumbled across the issue of finding proof to prove that the military was using UFO technology to build stealth aircraft.  
  
"Mulder, it's the dim hope of finding that proof that has kept us in this car-or one very much like it. Driving hundreds, if not thousands of miles through neighborhoods and cities and towns where people are raising families and buying homes, and playing with their kids and their dogs. And we-we just keeeeeeeep driving".  
  
"What is your point?" he asked.  
  
"Don't you ever just wanna stop? Get out of the damned car? And live something approaching a normal life?"  
  
"This is a normal life Scully".  
  
I don't even know what normal is anymore. I wouldn't have the faintest idea what it is. I get older and I feel myself tiring, I want to stop. But then again I also want to be with Mulder, help him on this never-ending quest. I feel it is now my duty to do so. Originally I was sent to debunk his work, but now I have seen too much to do that, to a degree I am now a believer.  
  
But after all the complaining, all the miles through many states and cities, I find myself yet again in the car, driving off to find something that was never thought to exist. I sit here now in the passenger seat, watching as houses and families with dogs pass me by. I see them happily playing together, doing something I have always longed to do: live a normal life.  
  
I also see the profile of my dear partner, someone who has been here with me through the toughest of times. As much as I feel I owe him everything, I know he'd never accept any notion that I felt I needed to repay him. That is what I love about him, he respects others and would keep giving all he could.  
  
The car has become my mobile prison. I know it sounds harsh, but that's the only way to describe it. I have spent much of my time as an FBI Investigator on the road in a car. I highly doubt this will be my last drive with my partner, nor will our search for the truth end where it began. All that I can account for, is the fact that the road ahead is long, the chances of us stopping are few and after this there will always be more.  
  
------ The End. 


End file.
